


i take this man

by misswesterosi



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Arranged Marriage, Cousin Incest, F/M, Jon Snow is a God, Jonrya Secret Santa 2017, Starkcest, The Old Gods (ASoIaF)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-24 09:52:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13211268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misswesterosi/pseuds/misswesterosi
Summary: Arya Stark found herself kneeling in the middle of the night in the Godswood, she was desperate. "I'll do anything." she sighed. These were dangerous words to say before the Gods.





	i take this man

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zombiegravitation](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zombiegravitation/gifts).



> Merry Christmas to my Secret Santa!  
> This story has arrived a bit - maybe a lot - late and I'm sorry for that, I had problems with my connection here, but thanks to the Gods I got back before the end of the year to publish your gift. I hope you sincerely enjoy this story, I tried, I swear I tried, to do my best. You gave so many wonderful ideas that I almost died to choose one! Your second part of this will be posted on tumblr. I hope you like it too.  
> Merry Christmas and a wonderful New Year's Eve for you and your family.  
> May 2018 be an incredible year for you.  
> Sincerely,  
> Your Secret Santa
> 
> The prompt requested by zombiegravitation was;  
> AU where Arya ties to avoid marriage an actual person by invoking an Old Gods tradition of being a God bride effectively keeping herself from being shipped away from Winterfell.Cue her surprise when on the day of her wedding, there’s a man (Jon) waiting under the heart tree with a wedding cloak bearing a weirwood over his arm. What happens next is up to author.

**REQUEST**

Arya took a deep breath, trying to control the anger that bubbled inside her. She loved her father deeply and it made everything worse, because she knew he was not doing it to hurt her; on the contrary, Lord Stark would do anything to make his daughters happy. But the moment he announced during dinner the night before that he was considering a betrothal for the young Stark, she could not contain the tears of rage that ran down her cheeks. She was not like her mother or sister, Arya was not born to be a lady wife, tucked in some southern – of all things – castle, waiting for her husband with a son in her belly. This was not who she wanted to be. The world was much more than just being someone's wife. She could only think of all the places she had never visited, all the food she would never taste, and the wines she would never drink. She wanted more. She wanted adventures. She wanted to feel freedom.

For that reason she was there in that moment of vulnerability, uncertainty, faith, begging before the Heart Tree, the gods to be merciful, to help her at this moment to be more than what everyone expected of her. To be her own person.

But the gods did not answer her.

Maybe that was it. The silence of the gods was the confirmation that she was nothing more than a bargaining chip. With a final sigh, in a desperate plea, she whispered staring into the bloody eyes of the tree, "I'll do anything."

When the silence again was all that greeted her, Arya stood up, refusing to admit her defeat, if the gods would not help her, she would do it herself.

"What a wild little thing you are." A voice whispered behind her. "Are you not seeking the help of the Gods?" When she turned, however, there was nothing there. The trees were still, with no signs of wind or any action from nature, as if time had stopped. Arya inhaled sharply as she felt the warm breath in her ear. "Then why are you leaving?" The voice sighed, "Fear?" A low, deep laugh was heard, making her body shiver. 

In indignation Arya turned angrily to face who was mocking her, but found nothing again. She was starting to get really angry at whoever was playing tricks on her. "Who are you?' she cried, 'I demand that you show yourself at this moment."

The wind blew past her, like a caress, ruffling her black hair. "If it is the freedom you so much desire," the voice sighed, seriously, "be right here," whispered in her right ear, "before this tree, before the gods, at the turning of the moon." A low laugh escaped his voice. "I'll give you what you want, but remember, you promised to the gods anything in return."

And she felt alone again.


End file.
